Page 55 of Everything We Give

Long enough to get what I want from him.

I imagine Thomas’s surprise at finding me on his schedule. I called the receptionist first thing this morning, insisting she reserve ten minutes of Thomas’s precious time.

I only need five.

Colorful magazines are stacked on the side table. I select a furniture catalog and flip through the glossy pages of exotic imports from Chile and Brazil, quickly reaching the end. I return it to the table.

“How much longer, do you think?” I ask the receptionist.

Marion Temple glances at her monitor. She clicks her mouse. “I’m showing he’s still on the phone. He should be off shortly.”

That’s what she said eight minutes ago. “Thanks.” I politely smile.

“I hope you don’t mind waiting until he’s done. Thomas had me clear an hour from his calendar. He’s very interested in seeing you.”

I bet he is, considering I did everything within my legal rights to keep him away from me. After we met in Puerto Escondido and he admitted what he’d done, how he manipulated both my life and James’s, the mere sight of Thomas brought on severe physical reactions. Heart palpitations. Shortness of breath. Nausea.

Thomas tried approaching me on multiple occasions those initial months following Mexico since I’d blocked his calls and e-mails. Ian always escorted him from the café before Thomas had the opportunity to reach me. Thank goodness for Ian and my therapist. They kept me sane until the day I snapped.

I came home one evening after a long shift to find Thomas waiting for me on the porch.

“Who have you told about James?”

His demanding question startled me. I hadn’t seen him lurking behind the overgrown hydrangea plant. I screamed. Then I got mad. Madder than I’d ever been in my life. I picked up a potted fern and threw it at his head. My aim was off and the clay pot shattered on the porch. Dirt sprayed the front of Thomas’s pristine white dress shirt.

“Christ.” He lowered his arms where they’d been shielding his head. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Are you kidding me? Are youfuckingkidding me?” I wanted to gouge out his eyes. I wanted to make him bleed. To think this man was the same guy I once thought of as a big brother, whowasthe kind and considerate older brother of the boy I had loved. Thomas would pick us up from school before James had his license and drive us to the pizza parlor downtown. Then he’d wait in his car so that James and I had time alone together. Time their parents wouldn’t know was spent with me.

I picked up another pot. Thomas’s arms immediately shielded his head as he leaped off the porch. “Just answer the question, Aimee. That’s all I want.”

I didn’t care what he wanted. He didn’t deserve an answer. I shook the potted tulips at him, beautiful bulbs my mother had gifted me the previous winter. Getting Thomas off my property and out of my life was worth their sacrifice. I took a threatening step toward him. “If you ever set foot—”

“I’m leaving.I’m leaving!”he yelled again, backing away, when I lifted the pot above my head. He pointed at it clutched in my hands. “My head’s not worth it. They’re too pretty.”

His remark caught me off guard. I lowered my arms, holding the pot against my hip. I had to look away from the sadness he tried to hide and I didn’t want him to see my own tears. He’d been a good friend. How did we get to this point? I wanted to murder him.

“Just leave,” I said, trying not to cry.

He did, albeit reluctantly, his arm reaching out as he backed away, his expression pleading for an answer. My stance firm, my gaze hard, he didn’t get one from me. The following morning, I contacted an attorney and started the process of filing a restraining order against Thomas.

James told me yesterday a little about why Thomas had kept him hidden, how he’d pulled some strings and put James in Mexico’s witness protection program. I could understand Thomas’s reasons, barely, but I don’t think he needed to go to those extremes. I’m sure there had been other options.

But if Thomas had taken them, I never would have met Ian. I’m waiting here, in the lion’s den, because of Ian. And that lion is preying upon my best friend, Nadia.

Anger spikes. My hands fist. I grab my purse and approach the reception desk on the brink of barging into Thomas’s office. Marion hangs up the phone from the call she’d been on and pleasantly smiles at me. “That was Thomas. He’ll see you now, Mrs.Collins. Follow me.” She rises and walks around the semicircle-shaped desk.

Finally.

I follow Marion down a wide hallway, past cubicles and offices. She stops at the end and opens a wide set of double doors stained a dark mahogany. “Mr.Donato, Mrs.Collins is here to see you.” She steps aside.

Before I lose my nerve, I swiftly cross the gray carpeted floor. Thomas starts to rise from his chair behind his desk. I lay into him before he’s on his feet. “There are hundreds of architects in the Bay Area and you chose Nadia. Why?”

Thomas’s mouth parts and his brows rise, crinkling his forehead. I inwardly cringe. That’s not how I planned to open our conversation.

His gaze slides from me to behind me. He nods and I hear the doors shut. It’s just the two of us, alone. My heart pounds but I won’t let Thomas see me sweat. I straighten my posture, crossing my arms so he doesn’t see how badly my hands shake, and meet his eyes.

He tosses his pen on the glass surface of his desk. “I admire her work.”

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